


Night Moves

by lightsaroundyourvanity



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 00:19:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2487521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightsaroundyourvanity/pseuds/lightsaroundyourvanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura doesn't know why she asked to come along to the vampire bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Moves

Laura doesn't know why she asked to come along to the vampire bar.

That's a freaking lie. She knows _exactly_ why. It's because that's where Carmilla goes, and whenever Laura is interested in something, she has to know every single detail about it. There's a reason she can name every twist of _Lost Girl_ , that she has a fairly well researched hypothesis on what the 23 flavours in a can of Dr. Pepper are, and that she spent four hours in the basement of the town library reading police blotters on microfiche (microfiche!) earlier that week. Laura is nothing if not thorough.

And since she's very interested in Carmilla, she'll be thorough with her too.

"You won't like it," Carmilla had said, with a scrunched up face, when Laura had asked to tag along. But Laura had pleaded, wide eyed and incessant, and Carmilla had crumbled like her bones ought to have centuries ago.

(This is a morbid simile, Laura thinks. Morbid, and prods at the uncomfortable tickle Laura feels when she remembers that Carmilla is ancient and outside of time.)

So she puts on her least bait-ey outfit (why invite trouble?) and goes out with Carmilla, a little past midnight, and a little past turning back. They walk side by side, the backs of their hands scant inches from touching. The air between them sizzles.

Laura and Carmilla have not kissed, have barely touched, save for a handful of fleeting moments and one memorable dance lesson that has circled the drowsy, thoughtful period before Laura falls asleep for days now. But there's something between them, and it's becoming impossible to ignore. The way Carmilla watches Laura when she thinks the other girl isn't looking. The way Laura snaps at Carmilla for bad roommate behaviour, because all she feels is a boil of passion when she's in the same room as Carmilla and snippy anger seems to be the safest way to let it out. 

Their friendship, tentative at first, now seems obvious. They click. Even though Carmilla is selfish, and lazy, and totally grumpy-- still, they click. Laura sometimes catches herself smiling mistily at the coffee ring Carmilla's mug leaves on the counter every morning. God help her, she thinks it's _cute._  

She's getting off topic. Where were we? Oh, right. Vampire bar, just past midnight, yadda yadda yadda. Laura keeps sneaking glances at Carmilla sidelong as they walk together. Carmilla is wearing low slung pants made of some stretchy shiny black material, and a tight, sleeveless blouse that snaps up the front. The shirt is dark red, and Laura almost makes a joke about Carmilla dressing so colourfully, but she stops herself. She isn't sure why.

Laura thinks that she's being sneaky, but Carmilla tilts her head to the side, and catches Laura's eye. She smiles, showing teeth, and raises an eyebrow, and Laura ducks her head and looks away. "Sorry," she mumbles.

Carmilla's grin widens. "Look all you want, lemondrop," she says cheerfully. "I like knowing that you enjoy the view as much as I do."

Laura doesn't look up, but she does mouth _oh my freaking lord_ to herself, while her hair still curtains her face. She looks up, and smooths her hair back. Sometimes Carmilla will say the most forward, unbelievable things. And then at the next turn, she'll say something so casually old fashioned that it will be eerie. Carmilla is unexpected. Laura wonders where she'll be taking her tonight.

"We're here." says Carmilla. She stops walking.

It's so exactly expected that Laura chirps with laughter. It's a bar, run down and grungy on the outside, music pumping dimly behind the door. Well, where had she thought Carmilla would take her, _Fangtasia?_ It's possible that Laura has become a teensy bit oversaturated with vampire pop culture recently.

What was that about being thorough?

Carmilla opens the door, and Laura walks in before her. She hears the door thunk shut and Carmilla bumps behind Laura when it does, her chest brushing against Laura's back and her hips briefly pressed flush against Laura. Laura jumps. She spins around, and is face to face with Carmilla. Carmilla watches her, carefully, until Laura clears her throat awkwardly and turns away again. She walks into the main room of the bar.

It's dimly lit, and gives that air of being smoky even though of course smoking indoors hasn't been legal in well over a decade by now. Laura's thoughts skitter to Carmilla again. Is that weird for her? Do vampires even smoke? Does Carmilla even smoke? _Did_ she smoke, but gave up when it fell out of public favour? But like, what vampire is going to stop smoking because of a surgeon general's warning? It's not like they need to be precious with their health or anything.

Laura has never seen Carmilla smoke. Maybe Carmilla just doesn't like the taste.

"Bar's this way, twinkie," Carmilla says, and Laura starts. She's been completely spacing out. Carmilla rolls her eyes, and then reaches out and grabs Laura's hand, lacing their fingers tightly together. She strides towards the bar, dragging Laura along ungently. 

Every nerve ending in Laura's body seems to have migrated to her fingertips. She squeezes Carmilla's hand, and swears she can feel every wrinkle in Carmilla's skin, every whorl of every fingerprint. For once, she doesn't even ask herself rapid-fire internal questions, like whether vampires actually have fingerprints, or where Carmilla got the scar that puckers in the middle of her palm. She just... feels. And it's nice.

Carmilla leads them to the bar, and lets go of Laura's hand when they reach it. She leans against the counter, and Laura rubs her palm briefly, before coming to her senses and dropping her hands to her sides. She looks around the room (anywhere but at the girl in question) while she gathers herself. It really is a total dive. It's not even a cool dive-- everything looks a little bit dirty, and there are cards on the tables advertising three dollar beers. A group of dudes in hockey jerseys play pool in a back room. There are old man regulars, and the music is too loud. 

Laura turns to Carmilla. "You um, like this place?" she asks, hopefully tactfully. "You come here a lot?"

Carmilla looks... oh my god, does she look nervous? The idea of that makes Laura feel oddly thrilled. Carmilla quickly masks the expression with a casual shrug, and mutters, "I don't know. Sometimes I--"

 "Hey Carmilla." The bartender is pretty, in that bleached hair and silver eyeshadow kind of way. "The usual, right?"

Carmilla freezes, and then nods as her face falls. She briefly watches the bartender walk away, and then looks back at Laura. "They serve blood, okay?" she snaps, defensive.

Comprehension and revulsion collide in Laura's mind simultaneously. Of course that's what Carmilla would be looking for when she scanned yelp reviews for a new watering hole. And judging from the dump they were in, and the prickly, half-embarrassed look on Carmilla's face, that probably isn't mega easy to come by. So Laura decides to cut Carmilla a huge swath of slack. She hops onto a barstool, swinging her legs, and when the bartender returns, dropping a tall glass of O positive in front of Carmilla, Laura politely orders a whiskey sour.

"It's kind of cool here," Laura says brightly. "Um. Authentic." The bartender returns with her drink, and Laura holds herself back from checking the glass.

"Spare me," says Carmilla. "Your off brand sunshine is only making me sad for you."

"Well excuse me for trying to be nice!" Laura retorts. "Though God knows why I keep trying at this point."

Carmilla stiffens. "Don't say that."

"Why not?" Laura asks. She takes a long swallow of her drink. "It's true, isn't it? Sometimes, it's like I'll almost be getting somewhere with you, but then you'll be so evasive, or, or, snide, and I--"

" _Laura."_ Carmilla cuts Laura off abruptly. "I meant the other part. Don't take the lord's name in vain in here. There are too many people around who _really_ won't like it."

Laura feels her face growing hot. "Oh," she says lamely. Then she raises her eyebrows. "Wait, seriously? All vampires react if you say-- if you say that name? Isn't that a little Jesus-centric?"

"It has nothing to do with Christ," says Carmilla. "It's about faith."

"And you have faith?" asks Laura. She sounds genuinely surprised and curious.

Carmilla shrugs. "As a mortal, I lived in eastern Europe. It would seem that the faith I had imposed upon me while living followed me into the grave."

"Huh." Laura looks thoughtful for a moment and sips her drink. "So would a muslim vampire react if you mentioned Allah?"

"I dunno. Probably." Carmilla lifts her glass. "Cheers, buttercup."

Laura raises her glass and clinks it against Carmilla's, and they both drink. Carmilla's eyes never stray from Laura, and Laura is caught in her stare, a deer in the headlights tempted by a significantly more alluring fate.

"Car _milla._ " An unfamiliar voice slice between them. "Pretty. Can I have her when you're done?"

Carmilla's face darkens in a scowl. "Am I supposed to know you?"

Laura swivels in her seat to get a look at the newcomer. Tall, pale, and skinny, with a shit-eating smirk.Wearing a long leather duster, his head cocked to one side. Laura doesn't know who he is either. But he knew Carmilla's name.

"You don't know me. But you will." The stranger's tone sounds smug and rehearsed. Laura wonders if that's just his natural inflection or if he actually wrote a stupid speech. He flips back his jacket and says, "I'm Drake."

Laura looks quickly at Carmilla. Carmilla looks like she's about to spit a mouthful of blood across the room; her shoulders shake with laughter. She swallows. "Can I help you with something... Drake?" her last words are punctuated by a badly smothered snicker.

Drake doesn't falter. "Yeah. You can pass over your friend." His gaze scrapes over Laura, and she grimaces. "She looks... delectable."

Laura looks sharply at Carmilla. She is nervous, appalled, and not very uninterested. Carmilla has stopped laughing. She just looks mad now, eyes snapping, shoulders squared. "Back off, creep," she says curtly.

Drake's lips curl back in a sneer. "You're too cocky for your own good, and you'll learn," he says haughtily. He reaches for Laura, and adds, "One way or another."

Carmilla moves faster than Laura can see. In a blur, she shoves Drake away, and tugs Laura out of her seat, wrapping one arm possessively around Laura's waist. "Are you deaf as well as stupid?" Carmilla snaps. "I said _back off._ She is Mine." Carmilla's arm tightens around Laura.

The sudden contact has Laura giddy, flustered, and stunned all at once. She wants to lean into Carmilla, but would that be totally weird? Or was it what she was supposed to do? And woah, Laura suddenly realizes, when did _archaic claiming of people as property_ get put on the table?! Laura's not sure how she feels about that, as much as she likes the press of Carmilla's skin against the small of her back.  

Drake, already pale, blanches pasty. "I didn't know."

Carmilla's smile doesn't reach her eyes. "I could tell."

"I-- I'll take my leave then."

And as Drake slinks away, Laura tilts her chin up to look at Carmilla. Carmilla's arm is still hard around Laura's waist, warm and protective. Laura doesn't want her to move, but she does have a question. "Are you for real?" she asks Carmilla. "All that Sookie Stackhouse claiming crap is legit?"

Carmilla's whole body tenses; her face falls. "No," she admits. "I was counting on _him_ not knowing that, though. Newborn idiots don't always know the rules. Vampire super hearing, on the other hand--"

Carmilla doesn't need to finish her sentence. Drake had circled back on them as soon as he'd overheard Laura speak. His mouth is twisted with anger. "So you thought you'd make a fool of me, did you?" he snarls, and then he lunges for Laura and Carmilla.

Carmilla surges to the left, dragging Laura with her, and Drake rockets past them both and careens into the bar with a soft _oof._ When he recovers, Carmilla is already waiting. She knees Drake in the stomach. He doubles over, and Carmilla drives her elbow into his spine. Drake falls to the ground, and Carmilla kicks him in the side, viciously.

"Honestly, I was just trying to help you save face," Carmilla says loftily. "But you couldn't just leave us alone, could you? Goddamn twenty first century vamps. Now I'm gonna--"

" _Carmilla!"_ the admonishment comes from behind the bar. The blonde bartender stands with her hands on her hips, looking stormily at Carmilla. "You've been warned too many fucking times. Get out."

"--get the boot," Carmilla finishes unnecessarily. She looks down at Drake in disgust. "Man, fuck you," she tells him, and then turns and stomps towards the door. Laura chases after her. 

It's crisp outside after the stale air of the bar. Laura has to jog to keep up with Carmilla, who walks at a fast clip, still fuming. "Hey, slow down!" Laura says breathlessly. "Not all of us have a creature-of-the-night constitution here!"

Carmilla stops. She looks at Laura, opens her mouth, and then closes it again. "I'm sorry," she says after a moment.

Carmilla rarely apologizes, and Laura is two parts flabber, one part gasted to hear it. "Don't worry about it," she says.

"I shouldn't have lost my temper," Carmilla says stubbornly. "I should have known better." 

Laura shifts her weight. "You were protecting me."

"Some protection," Carmilla mutters.

"It was," Laura insists. "I mean, granted, I still prefer Sara Lee to Bruce Lee, but... that guy was a creep. You were amazing."

It's that last word -- _amazing--_ that seems to lift Carmilla's spirits. Her face lights up, and she smiles, almost shyly. "He was, wasn't he?" she says, half to herself. "That place sucked, anyway." Carmilla sighs. "Don't get me wrong, other vampires have always been pretty awful, but this modern pop culture makes them _insufferable._ "

Vampire politics. Vampire trends. Who knew, right? Laura takes advantage of this Carmilla, a little more open and vulnerable than usual, and patches together her courage. She reaches out and takes Carmilla's hand, squarely meeting her eye. "Tell me about it," Laura says, "On the walk home."

Carmilla's eyes widen, and then she smiles, and nods shortly. Her fingers lace between Laura's. They start to walk.

"I think everything started going downhill in the '90s," Carmilla tells Laura. " _Buffy_ was pretty cool, but all that _Interview With a Vampire_ crap? Totally perpetuated a fucked up image."

As they walk hand in hand, Laura listens, rapt, as Carmilla talks. 

She'd kinda hated that bar, anyway.

 

**Author's Note:**

> this was for an anonymous tumblr prompt, who wanted "Carmilla being protective over Laura and somehow incorporating her holding Laura."
> 
> but also you said you had a specific image in your head, so if you do not like this, please describe it as much as you can so I can try again!


End file.
